by Bevan Greer
“It’s that blood which makes you the perfect tracker to find our lost Mari. Now, since I know you won’t trust what your ‘alien’ senses tell you,” she said wryly, “I’ll be giving you this.” She handed him a pouch.
“In it is the Fen root and a few other native herbs. Combined, this pouch will weaken and enslave the Mari when placed in close proximity to him or her. But be very careful when you use it, and tell no one about it. This bag is your weakness as well, though in diluted effect due to your Bylaran blood.
“If others know that the Fenturi have this weakness, it will be used against you as well. This I have foreseen.” She seemed not at all disturbed that she’d just given one of her people’s most powerful enemies leverage against them.
Garen’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. Then he opened the pouch and peered into it. He took a small sniff and blinked several times before closing the bag tightly.
“You see?”
He nodded.
“May I?” Zebram wanted to see it. Garen reluctantly gave him the bag. He sniffed at the contents and went so far as to touch the herbs in the pouch, but he suffered no ill effects and returned it to Garen. “So it only works on the Fenturi?”
He noted the young woman stiffen at his words and took a longer look at her. He hadn’t given her much notice before, in his concern for Garen’s state of mind with Myla, but now that he truly saw her, his eyes widened. By Bylar, the woman was beautiful.
Obviously Fenturi, with long brown hair, golden skin, and glowing lavender eyes. She stood at Zebram’s height but could never be mistaken for a man. She had subtle curves and a vitality about her that made him entertain sudden fantasies long dormant in his duty-burdened body.
“M—” He coughed, embarrassed that he needed to clear his throat. “Myla, who is your lovely companion?”
Myla looked slyly back at her charge. “She’s my new help. My healing apprentice. Her name’s Thela Fenwi, and she has a part to play in all of this as well. I have seen it so.”
Garen snorted with disbelief. “You’re not only a witch, but a seeress as well?”
“That I am. You’d be wise to remember that, Legionnaire,” Myla warned.
Before Garen could respond, a large guidecat darted out of the wood line and stood in front of Thela and Myla, its ears back and its back fur raised in threat at the men
It growled at Zebram, took a sniff, then glanced at Myla, who nodded. It seemed to answer with a low meow, as if in wary acceptance. Odd. Then it turned to Garen and bared its teeth, a clear indication of challenge.
Watching his brother, Zebram could sense the conflicting emotions swirling through him. Guidecats were a rare and much sought-after creature. Even Zedrax had levied stiff penalties against anyone harming the native felines. Though the Fenturi people hadn’t been as accepted, the guidecats were clearly natives of the planet and a fierce fighting beast, acknowledged by the Bylaran people. Zebram wanted to stroke the cat but knew better than to engage it.
Garen sneered back at the cat, showing white teeth suddenly very sharp. Fenturi, Zebram thought, in awe. Brave or foolish, if Garen didn’t stop, he’d soon find his neck caught between even sharper teeth—guidecat fangs.
Garen growled low in his throat but didn’t grab for his weapon. To Zebram’s shock, the cat blinked, cocked its head, then lay prostrate before Garen, going so far as to roll onto its back, exposing its vulnerable belly.
“What was that?” Zebram gasped.
The four stared at the cat’s strange manner. Zebram was further shocked when Garen abandoned his anger to stroke the soft fur of the cat’s underbelly.
“That’s Sheth, my guidecat.” Thela’s husky voice sounded unsteadily. “I—I think he likes you,” she said to Garen, but her gaze locked on Zebram, a question in them.
Myla chuckled, not at all put off by the strange situation. “You see, Garen of the House Vinopol? You deny your heritage and your feelings, but your blood tells. A guidecat may acknowledge one not of Fenturi blood, but it will never submit to one, as Sheth has done to you.”
At her words, Garen stood and scowled at her. The cat regained sat up as well and started grooming itself.
“Fine, witch-woman,” Garen said coolly. “You play your games, but they won’t help when I finish hunting the rest of you down, one by one,” he said with an exact lack of feeling that made Zebram’s blood chill. “The Mari will of course be spared, only as long as it takes him to power the Thrax.”
Thela moved close to Myla, but Myla gave no reaction. As if ignoring his words altogether, she nodded. “Go to Rovi. You seek one like yourself. A Stalker,” she said with a small curl to her lips. “Listen to your instincts. Open yourself up, if only to see through this mission. Once you have found the Mari and persuaded our Fenturi brethren to accompany you on your quest, you must go to Nexios and ask for Methan. He will show you the way to the Thrax. Then you must return here. I do not play lightly with words, Garen. Once you find the Mari and talk with Methan, come back. It’s important you do.”
Garen seemed to want to argue with her but held his tongue, then turned away.
Zebram grabbed his arm when Garen meant to leave, detaining him for a moment. “I know this is hard, but if you fail, all of Bylar and the System will fall.”
Myla nodded. “When you find the Mari, you will find that things are not always what they seem. And that you have more inside you than even you think you possess.” Uttering those cryptic words, she gathered Thela’s hand in hers and left with the guidecat, the men staring after them.
“About Father,” Zebram began. “He—”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Garen uttered in a low, emotionless voice, his eyes seething with hidden passion. “For you and for the System, I will do as asked. It is my purpose, my sole reason for existence to protect this miserable piece of rock.” Garen shook his head. “And so, my king…” he bowed his head “…it will be done.”
Then he turned and stormed back toward the village, leaving Zebram with a wounded heart and a full mind, tired of the burdens that now consumed him from sunrise to sunset, day after day.
-4-
“You just had to improvise, didn’t you?” Jace sneered at Shea, who looked down at her feet rather than face the harsh glare of his gleaming black eyes. Dare couldn’t blame her. At times like these, no one wanted to meet his eyes. The black sheen took on a glittery rainbow effect that made his gaze almost mesmerizing, and powerfully scary.
“Oh, leave her alone.” Dare lifted another clean bandage to still the blood seeping from his head. “Poor baby,” she mocked with a grin. “All that pretty blond hair now looks red.”
“No thanks to our magician,” Jace muttered.
Even Roc glared at Shea, and Dare bit her lip not to laugh out loud.
She cleared her throat. “Oh, come on fellas. You have to admit her illusion gave us the time we needed to escape with the beks, as well as earn us a few extra.”
“But it wasn’t you or Shea that had to drive off twenty woman-hungry soldiers, now was it?” Roc asked and glared down at Shea. “No matter that your illusion worked, little girl,” he emphasized. “Jace and I had to back up your show with real fire power.”
Shea’s illusion had consisted of making Roc and Jace gorgeous sex workers, attracting the attention of the many guards wanting more than a kiss from the “pretty girls”. Dare burst into laughter, unable to contain it any longer. The guys scowled at her, and she laughed so hard she had to clutch her sides for breath. Shea made it worse, vibrating with mirth.
Dare wiped the tears from her eyes. “Come on guys. Watching Shea mask you two as pleasurers was pretty funny, but watching you fend off amorous advances was hilarious. Really, Jace, if you’d seen what I had…” She dissolved once more into uncontrollable laughter.
Jace stomped past her toward his room, muttering the whole way. Roc did the same since Shea couldn’t catch her breath to talk to him.
“I tell you, Shea, I haven
’t laughed like that in ages. Seeing Roc and Jace all dolled up like that, and then watching them stare at those lust-filled males with shock, not seeing the illusion as we did, well, it was priceless.”
“Thanks, I liked that last touch myself.” Shea batted her eyes prettily and bounced away, no doubt to soothe Roc’s anger.
Dare smiled as she counted the hundreds of beks the warriors had thrown at Jace and Roc, and these made of superior Ziwi glitterstone, which tripled the value of the haul. Her enthusiasm at their successful raid bottled excitement inside her, dying to get out. She felt like running around, jumping, hunting something.
She tried to shrug off the odd restlessness now plaguing her and moved to the exercise room below decks. Perhaps some running would rid herself of the thrumming ache.
But as she reached the exercise room, heat centered in her midsection and spread outward, causing her limbs to tingle. She cursed her unruly body and felt a familiar surge rush into her mind.
The ecstasy of power filling her, made stronger by her laughter and thrill over the scam in Lynar, forced a necessary concession she hated to give. But if she didn’t release the pressure, she might do some serious damage to the ship. Damn.
She hurried out of the room and staggered toward the end of the ship, where they stored their refuse for disposal in proper waystations. With no hope for it, she released the netted bundles into space.
She hadn’t seen any nearby ships on the monitors, but she hadn’t been looking too hard. Praying no one would pay it much mind if they did see it, she watched the large ball of garbage float away from the ship.
Concentrating, she felt for her internal energy and channeled it into the mass floating in space. An odd blue fire burned brightly and solidly for a full minute, in the bleakness of space, without oxygen. Many would have wondered at its origins. Then the blue faded into the blackness of space, and Dare leaned her forehead against the portal through which she had watched the spectacle.
She felt much better, slightly drained and still restless, but not so filled to bursting that she would lose control. Time to get the ship away from the area, in case they’d been seen…just as soon as she could muster the energy.
She managed to head back into the exercise room and at on a gravity bench. Her hands shook, and worry filled her. Usually she could go for long stretches before having to release a build-up of energy. But she’d done this same thing not a lunar month past. What was happening to her?
The past few months she’d felt herself on the verge of losing control of what Mra called her starfire. Yet the build-up seemed to be quickening, moving too fast for her to catch up with it. And her body’s new aches in odd places and at odd times scared her.
Dare flushed, recalling her dream from the previous night. She’d been having it repeatedly since her encounter on Vembi. Once again she’d been in the bar fighting the Shorhu salamanders, the dark-haired warrior at her side.
After they defeated the creatures, the stranger took her into one of the Vembi backrooms. And there he took her in his arms, kissed her, and proceeded to bare her body to his gleaming green eyes. Then he’d done things to her that she’d only seen done in Vembi vids, all the while watching her with those vivid pools of Fentra green…
Dare shivered and forced herself to focus on her body, here and now. Breathing deeply, in and out, she started to work on the gravity machine at the lowest setting, gradually moving up. Within no time, sweat poured from her, releasing more tension she hadn’t realized she’d possessed.
Jace joined her as she was finishing her last set of exercises. He motioned toward the space portal. “Nice show.”
“Crap.”
“Oh yeah. I caught the whole thing.”
Only Mra and Jace knew of her strange ability to create starfire. Having trusted them with her most devastating secret, she knew they would never tell.
She grunted as she leapt down from the exercise machine. “I thought it was pretty spectacular myself.”
“What’s going on?” Jace asked, his face drawn in concern. His gaze gentled on her face, and with a mental hug, he soothed that last bit of wildness still seething inside her. “What…?” He paused and inhaled her scent, his eyes widening in alarm.
“What?” Dare saw how he backed away from her. She’d finally done it, caused her best friend to turn from her. She was a freak, a space oddity, a monster—
“No, Dare, that’s not it,” Jace said huskily even as he kept his distance. “It’s just,” he paused, flushed, and seemed to step closer to her before backing away. “Mother night, you’re emitting some powerful waves of…sexual energy…that are really playing havoc with my libido.”
Dare’s face felt on fire. “I am not!”
“Oh, Setha.” He shook his head and closed his eyes, referring to her as his beloved sister. “But you are. Maybe you might want to talk to Mra about this? I’ll be in my room. Let me know when it’s safe to leave, and for stars sake, don’t go past Roc until you’re back to yourself again.” He flew out of the room.
Dare stared after him in shock. Is that what those odd feelings and needs stirring in me are? Sexual need? She blushed again, not at all comfortable with such topics. In all her years, she’d never felt the call to mate as her friends and those around her had. Dare could battle a Shorhu salamander or lead a pirate vessel, but kiss a man? She couldn’t fathom the idea. And while she could appreciate the male form—Jace and Roc were ruggedly handsome, after all—she didn’t feel sexually drawn to either male.
She’d never felt that calling, and now that she thought about it, she wondered why.
Seconds later, Mra appeared, probably at Jace’s urging. Dare didn’t know if she could look at him again, knowing he’d seen her…aroused? Shorhu lord, kill me now.
Ah, Mra purred. Finally you are coming into yourself as you should. The guidecat grinned, baring sharp white fangs. Now you need to learn how to mask your needs among those not your kind. Let’s begin…
***
Two weeks later, Ren swore up and down as his crew met with no success. Their first trip to Rovi had proved unrewarding. Ignoring the advice of the Fenturi witch-woman, Ren refused to open up his suppressed instincts lest he turn into one of them—the hated Fenturi.
“I don’t know,” Nesham started.
“What the big deal is,” Nedham finished. The twin Bylaran brothers stood large and ready for anything. Their frustration at not having had a good battle in over a fortnight grated roughly. “Just use your—”
“—instincts and find the Mari,” Nesham said, snarling under his breath.
Half-breeds, like Ren, the twins hadn’t asked to be born with Fenturi blood. Though he fought to rid his world of an enemy who sought to displace his king—his brother—Ren bore the twins no ill will because of their tainted beginnings. They worked hard, played hard, and always got the job done. His only complaint about the two was their habit of finishing each other’s sentences.
Ren ignored them even as Phin muttered about their aggravating habit. Of course, the little Informa kept his mutterings low lest the savage twins wreak their frustration on the gnome-like alien.
Phin had been a recent acquisition in their quest to find the Mari. Castor had worked with him before and trusted the small, blue-skinned alien. But then, Castor had a habit of liking and trusting the oddest creatures. Hadn’t the idiot befriended Ren?
Feeling a small smile worm its way onto his face, he noted Castor’s surprise.
“Are you feeling alright, Ren? I do believe that’s the first smile I’ve seen on your face in a month.” Castor grinned, his brown eyes twinkling.
“Well, thank the Hams,” Ren said referring to the twins. “Through little effort, they’ve not only irritated me but Phin as well. If I’m not mistaken, even Primo has been keeping to himself up front, away from them.” He motioned toward their pilot. A rather brazen pirate they’d picked up years ago in a Nexian prison, Primo loved nothing more than to talk about himself. But a
pparently the Hams’ bickering had even gotten to him.
“Even so,” Castor said, stroking his mustache, “King Zebram happened to mention the Fenturi woman’s discussion with me before you left. Don’t you think it’s time you did what she said so we can find this Mari fellow? We’re running low on time, Ren. Word just came from a Jonkwyr trader vessel. Supposedly, a large battleship like nothing they’d ever seen is drifting close to the Outworld-Unknown border.”
“Yes, Ren,” Nesham complained. “Stop avoiding the obvious—”
“—and seek the Mari.” Nedham frowned. “If I could—”
“—I would!” Nesham finished.
Ren scowled at his shipmates, feeling a low growl work its way past his throat. The twins eyes widened, and they quickly lowered their gazes to the floor. The show of submission eased his temper, which made little sense. Ren had never been a fan of leading through fear. No matter what Zebram had done to him, he’d refused to be like the king in any way.
“I’ll be in my cabin,” he said in a low voice and stalked out of the front cabin, moving toward his private quarters.
Castor had come close without directly mentioning his hated Fenturi blood. Though they all knew of his origins, they knew better than to speak of it aloud.
The twins understood his feelings better than most, and while not blaming him for his actions thus far in their quest for the ‘savior,’ he could tell that they would only last so much longer without true direction. He entered his chamber and clenched his fists.
By the Dark World, could none of them understand his reluctance to embrace a part of himself he’d been taught to hate all his life? Though he despised Zedrax, he’d always secretly longed for the bastard’s acceptance, if not his love. Ren didn’t understand this weakness and cursed himself for his inability to be so needy, pacing about his spartan room.
How confused and troubled was he that he still wished Zedrax had shown him even a quarter of the love he’d felt for his legitimate, royal son, Zebram? The old man had treated Ren like filth his entire life. Ren hated the Fenturi blood that had made him so undesirable, even as he tried to hate the man who’d treated him so poorly.